Mentalist episode tag: If it Bleeds, it Leads, 5x7
by Donnamour1969
Summary: Jane tries to comfort Lisbon. After all, he's been there himself. Spoilers, 5x7. Drama/friendship/hurt/comfort. A dark change of pace for me. Rated T for mild language.


A/N: This one's a little darker than my usual tag, but I feel something was very ominous about this episode, and not just because I read spoilers. So, here's what I think might have happened the moment we last saw Jane. And by the way, Robin Tunney was excellent in this episode.

**Mentalist Episode Tag: If it Bleeds, It Leads, 5x7**

"So you ride in at the end on your white horse and think that that is enough? I needed your head in the game when I went to speak to Amanda. You could have helped me—seen something I didn't. She didn't have to die."

Jane walked the rest of the way into Lisbon's office, shutting the door with a soft click behind him. He knew what was going on here, knew all too well the guilt she was feeling. She needed someone besides herself to take it out on. He was happy to oblige.

"No, she didn't. And you didn't kill her, Lisbon. Volker did. You want to include me on the blame list, feel free. After all, I was only thinking of my own selfish vengeance scheme, as usual."

"Just stop it," she said, her voice growing uncharacteristically louder. "A woman died here; let's not make this about you for once, shall we?"

He thought it wise not to point out that she'd started it.

"And quit using your lame-ass reverse psychology to try to make me stop feeling guilty. The only thing that will make me feel any better is when I nail that bastard."

"And you will."

At her angry stare, he amended: "_We_ will. I know my mind was elsewhere on this one, but I promise I'll do everything I can to help—"

"It's too late."

"What?"  
"Too late for Amanda." She turned her back to him, blinking furiously to stop the tears she'd been holding back for hours now. Her small back, the one that seemed to carry the very weight of the world, began to tremble minutely. Jane was at her side in an instant.

"Lisbon," he said. "Teresa. I can't bear to see you doing this to yourself."

"Oh," she said, laughing through her tears. "That's really rich, coming from you. How many times did I beg you to get out of the revenge business, to get on with your life and stop blaming yourself for what Red John did?"

"And you were right," he said, placing a tentative hand on her arm. "It was good advice. I wish I'd listened. But if you don't get a handle on this now, Volker will become _your_ Red John. Let it go. Get someone else to work on this—Cho. Cho is as dispassionate as they come. I don't want you to start down the same dark path I've followed."

Her head fell forward, and one small hand came up to squeeze the bridge of her nose against her pounding headache.

"Go away, Jane. I don't need your pity, or your dire Nostradamus act, whatever the hell this is. I'm pissed off, and I'm frustrated, and a good part of that is directed at you right now. So unless you'd like another smack in the face this week, I suggest you go back to brooding up in your attic."

His hand fell away from her arm and he backed up a step, the sharpness of fear carving into him like a knife. It was early days yet, but he could see the seeds of her obsession sprouting just beneath the surface. If she didn't get this guy, and soon, she would dig herself a hole and pull the dirt in on top of her.

It was like looking at himself in a mirror in the moment he'd lost Rebecca, or when he'd had to kill Hardy, or when the FBI had torn Lorelei from his grasp. He recognized this anger, this helplessness, this desire. Because that's what it was: _desire_. Almost as if for a lover-it made you feel that out of control. If he were a praying man, he'd ask that she not succumb to it, that she lift herself above the guilt in order to think clearly, methodically. He could usually do that himself, until someone else died or was taken from him, of course.

"I'm going," he said softly. "But I promise I'll be there for you now. I'm sorry I wasn't before. Let me help you, Teresa."

"I'll think about it," she said coldly, her back still to him. "Close the door on your way out."

He hesitated, but did what she asked. Teacup in hand, Jane made his way back to the bullpen and to the rest of Lisbon's team.

"We need to figure out a way to get Volker for this, or she's going to do something we'll all regret."

Cho and Rigsby exchanged concerned glances, and Van Pelt's eyes found Lisbon's office. The shades were drawn, and there was something ominous about that.

"It's not her fault," said Van Pelt. "Did you tell her that?"

"Of course I did. She's blaming me though almost as much as herself, so at least some of that anger is divided a bit.

"You should have let her hit you," suggested Cho. "That always seems to make her feel better. I know it would me."

Rigsby hid an inappropriate grin.

"She'd rather knock herself down right now."

"What can we do?" asked Rigsby.

"We double our efforts and find something to stick on him. Anything that gives us an excuse to bring him in here. Look into his financials, his personal life—hell, check to see if he has overdue parking tickets. I'm not going to let her do this to herself."

"On it," each of them said, turning to their work with new vigor. Jane found his couch and sat down, his eyes going unerringly to Lisbon's closed office. She was doing what he did now; closing herself both literally and emotionally from the people who cared about her. His tea grew cold and he set it on the floor at his feet.

_I'm not going to let this happen to her, _he told himself. _If I lose her to this, I have nothing._

And that thought was the scariest one of them all.

A/N: So, that preview was pretty rough, eh? I believe that's the episode Simon Baker directs, so I'm sure it will be an intense one. And a blonde Lorelei?! If you are prone to heart problems, you might avoid the CTV promo. Just sayin'.


End file.
